The saga of “Park yer Carcas” no less than the Cream CheeseBandit( “Sliver”) climbing the walls at Sawtelle, the VA’sNeuropsychiatric Hospital, off Wilshire Boulevard, inn the Los Angeles basin, post World War 2, a precursor to our Nation’sinstitutes to address the Veteran mental and physical woundsfrom the ‘Nam, Iraq, Afghanistan wars during the advent ofSutter (cyberspace) gold bush “dares gold in demconfigurations”
II
An aura of bureaucratic camouflage was in the NeurosychiatircHospital where one day Park yer Carcus, as a part time attendant, patrolling the catatonic ward…. “Cream Cheese bandit, what the hell aree yous doing here?” jostling Sliver in his catatonic stance.
“ Park yer Carcus. Park yer Carcus” he mumbled, his glass eye lighting on his once Daily Gruin sports writer by liine, at the nearby Ucla campus, off Westwood Boulevard and Leconte..“What the Hell are you doing here?”he mumbled, that gold eye of his, taking in the snake pit of having to make it.
III
In our Nation’s care for those believed in their Humanity, for a bureaucracy that sold them out.
Ideals they were embodied to achieve. So their wounds can behealed, mononolithic
deceit on the very day they were sold out.
“You know the score, Sliver. You weren’t named the creamcheese bandit for nothing,” said the hospital attendant Park yerCarcus, as he held down Sliver’s ankles, the witch doctor throwing the switch for electric shock into the Cream Cheese Bandit’s frontal lobes, cortex, cerebellum, the neuron plaque targeted. .. a prelude to dementia and Alzheimer’s. IV
Needless to say the Cream Cheese Bandit cared little forHumanity; like the bureaucracy, he was out for
himself. “You’re as useless as teats on a bull’s ass,” said his supervisor in his role at rehab, near the hobby shops where the“Duke’s” pop maintained his clock and watch repair, time suspended when Veterans who made their sacrifices in Europe and the Pacific theaters of war, were recognized as heroes by the VA, their mission to rehabilitate their bodies and souls for the uncertainty of civilian “traffic”, justifying their making a score in civilian life.
What seems unforgivable is the hypocrisy horse akin the‘California Chrome’, wearing his nasal band the those jocks in their sacrifice against the enemy in ‘Nm, Iraq and Afghanistan.
Meanwhile a four legged animal “California Chrome” is given a police escort near Belmont Stakes track, in his horse flesh to win the triple crown, the first since Affirmed in ’77….
A beast of burden not unlike Man of War, Sea Biscuit, Citation, wearing his nasal band, the therapy for his whizzing, inhaling the gusts of air, opening up his nasal passages…charging toward the finish line.
V
Shame! The American Dream…aghast for ‘California Chrome’while the V.A. derogates the heroes of the scathing the American Dream, the Vets left begging, pitiful by their calloused authority figures, their the overwhelming deceit puts the Mafia to shame,in their own quest toward the finish line, none of the pretenders even offering these returning victim heroes a nasal inhaler, to soften their distress, in a system that is blind, yet worse, indifferent to their wounds, both physical and mental..
Akin to mass murder.
VI
“To the guillotine!” shouted Robespierre, the French Revolution stirring the hearts and minds of the disenfranchised, living by their instincts, Louis XIV’s hangers on survive, mistress Marie Antoinette,.
“If they want bread, let them eat cake”
VII
“Come the Revolution”, mumbled Park yer Carcass, the tearsflowing
My 20, 2014. The City that never sleeps.
